


The One in which the Bard Suffers

by Stressed_Cat



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, I've decided to name my writings as Victor Hugo named the chapters in Les Mis, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rape/non-con is not between Geralt and Jaskier, Sleepy Cuddles, Sorry again, Tags Are Hard, im spanish so is my grammar, is my first fic, no beta read we die like renfri, sorry for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:35:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25443253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stressed_Cat/pseuds/Stressed_Cat
Summary: This was the other hassle of Jaskier bedding (or being bedded by) whoever was willing to do so. He trusted this strangers too much. Most of the times, he was lucky and his unconditional love for the kind human he had met that night returned his love and gentleness.But sometimes they didn't.orJaskier is forced by one of his one-night stands and Geralt saves him + Fluff
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 5
Kudos: 224





	The One in which the Bard Suffers

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the Trigger Warnings
> 
> Hi, this is my first fic on AO3. English is no my forst language so some grammar and Vocabulary my be incorrect, sorry and feel free to correct me.  
> Thank you for reading!!

Just like he had done plenty of nights before, Geralt heard the agitated breath, the messy kissing, the clothes being not so carefully removed and the unmistakable giggling of his travel companion, muffled by the thick stoned walls of the inn. Even if Jaskier and this man —that had been staring at the bard since they walked through the door— were exactly in the room further away from his, due to his enhanced senses, he could heard them as if they were right next to his bed.

Since they met, Jaskier had had an incredible ease to seduce his way into a free bed and company for the night. The Witcher had seen him getting away from the crowded tavern of a town followed by very different sorts of people: a widowed miller, a nice lady with a bright smile whose husband was too drunk to care about who his wife slept with, the actual mayor of the town, the innkeeper's wife (that one didn't end well), the innkeeper's daughter _AND_ son (that one ended surprisingly well)... While Geralt had to pay more that usual to buy the company of some prostitute or even a place to sleep, Jaskier, with his charm and his pretty face, didn't struggle at all to find a warm bed and embrace.

It's not that Geralt was jealous or angry, it wouldn't be fair: the bard worked hard, singing until the moon was high up on the starry sky to get money for the two of them . However, in moments like these, when he could literally hear the bard panting and moaning while he was just trying to sleep after spending the whole day on the read, he couldn't help but to get a bit pissed off.

Jaskier and the other man were clearly on the foreplay, he could still hear them trying to get out of their clothes without breaking apart their kiss, how Jaskier gasped in pleasure and the man laughed. And this was the worst part of it. Geralt could know what was happening in that room by just listening carefully, when they stumbled onto the bed, when they had gone fully naked, when one of them (almost sure it was the bard), laid on his hands and knees, when-

As he hear, his mind managed to create a visual of it. The bard, breathless, his cheeks flushed red and his eyes dark with lust, the smooth skin of his back and thighs as he sank his teeth in the pillows in a failed attempt to keep his voice down. Geralt's eyes (until now closed, trying to fall asleep) shot open as he found himself getting aroused with the mental image. God's he shouldn't be thinking this.

He had grown more attached to the bard than he would like to. He enjoyed his singing and his company, tolerated his constant chattery and didn't quite understand his passionate way of seeing the world, as well as his unconditional trust for Geralt. Not only trust, but also love. He was not an idiot, he had a hard time expressing himself but he wasn't stupid, and Jaskier wasn't subtle at all. His songs, the way he looked at him, his smell of arousal and warmth he radiated whenever Geralt walked shirtless around the camp, his look of concern when Geralt was wounded in a fight against a monster... Jaskier's feeling for him were obvious, and Geralt had thought more than once of indulging his desires, their desires actually, and sleep with him.

Jaskier was young, and neverthless experienced. He was undeniably handsome, with those beautiful blue eyes, and surprisingly fit (more than once Geralt had found himself admiring the figure of his companion when he unashamedly bathed naked in a stream: strong thighs, broad shoulders...). In conclusion, the bard would definitely make a great lover, useful for the both of them to get some relieve from the tension and weariness of their journeys when there wasn't a brothel or willing partner to find.

However, he knew that the moment he took just a bite of the bard and allowed himself to fall for him he would never want to let go. What Jaskier felt for him was just a teenage crush, bloodstream flooded by hormones that went wild whenever he was around. But that wouldn't last forever, soon Jaskier would realise that he would be better, his life would be easier, if he stayed away from the witcher, and would leave him alone again. He couldn't let himself love the bard for his own good.

Geralt snorted and was going to turn around on the bed and cover his ears with the pillow when he heard a sudden yelp. “Hey! Stop that! I can find a bit of oil for it...” he listened Jaskier say, not so serious but still meaning it, as well as the other man's denial. And then there was another yelp and the bard asking the man to stop again, but his voice wasn't quite as playful as before.

This was the other hassle of Jaskier bedding (or being bedded by) whoever was willing to do so. He trusted this strangers too much. He was a showman, not only in profession but his entire being loved to entertain and please and he often gave himself, heart and soul, to whoever desired to enjoy his company. Most of the times, he was lucky and his unconditional love for the kind human he had met that night returned his love and gentleness.

But sometimes they didn't.

More than once he had been kicked out of the room as soon as they were done and he had to return to Geralt, smelling of sex, sweat and a bit of broken heart. Other times, specially with men but also with women, they crossed too many boundaries and he left the room himself. He was a generous lover, too generous for his own good, but some people tried to take more than he could give, treated him too roughly and threatened him if he didn't accomplish their desires. This were the times when he pushed them away and walked back to the room with Geralt, smelling of sex, sweat and melancholy. Jaskier often remained silent and mournful the morning after those events and Geralt couldn't get himself to say anything.

But every time this had happened, he had been able to break free from those people quite easily and that was why Geralt hadn't been worried at first. Jaskier wasn't a desperate maiden, he would kick the man in the face and come back soon...except that he didn't.

“Sluts like you should be able to take it a bit rough, don't you think?” that jerk said and Geralt thought that in a second Jaskier would be punching him in the gut. But again, he didn't.

The bard kept asking the man to stop, yelping and he went on mumbling obscenities against his skin, wet sounds and the cracking bed under them. It was when he heard that Jaskier was crying that all the alarms bells in his head went off and he sat up in bed, grabbed a dagger and ran to the door. As soon as he stepped outside his room the unmistakable scent of despair, fear and pain filled his nostrils. “Please stop, let me _go_...” Jaskier whined, Geralt's heart sank in his chest when the bard let out another moan of pain. He heard the fast slap of skin against skin, Jaskier gasping and whining with every thrusts. A sharp slap and a loud yelp of pain, and then another one and a high pitched scream.

The witcher ran across the corridor, the scent of Jaskier's fear becoming more intense every step he took. He reached the room and kicked the door open, breaking the knob, and his chest was filled with violent rage when he set his eyes on the scene in front of him.

Jaskier's wrists were tied to the headboard with a rope, low enough so he could bury his face in the pillow,his back arched as the bastard had one of his hands on his back, holding him down, and the other pushing his hip up, bruising the bard's skin. His thighs were spread wide by the man's own, who slammed into him at a punishing pace. Then he noticed red bruises on Jaskier's back and on the back oh his thighs. Next to them, on the bed, a leather belt folded in half.

When Geralt came in, the bard lifted his face, tears running down his cheeks and the motherfucker behind him, dark eyes shot open in surprise and sudden fear, pulled out of the bard roughly, scrambled down of the bed and backed off with his hands in the air. He was a tall man, taller than Jaskier, strong arms and broad chest.

“Sorry, I didn't know that bitch was yours!” the bastard said, perhaps trying to sound apologetical. He had only taken his shirt off but he hadn't yet pulled his dick back in his pants and Geralt swore to himself that we was cutting it off that motherfucker.

Geralt ignored him and ran to untie Jaskier's hands, wrists reddening from the struggle to get out of them. He turned around to lie on his back and tried to draw a smile on his lips. “You've come to save me, my prince charming...” he managed to joke even if tears kept rolling out his eyes and he gasped between breaths . Geralt clenched his jaw and tried to keep it together at the sight of the pitiful smile on Jaskier's quivering lips that failed to hold back the sobs that threatened to spill, framed by the teardrops rolling down his red cheeks.

The witcher's eyes had seen enough tragedies for a hundred lifetimes, so many that his heart had toughened and was able to take them without falling apart. But the sight of the bard in such miserable state, limbs trembling, eyes filled with tears, struggling to cover himself, feeling fragile and vulnerable, really made his heart sink in a hole of despair.

He kneeled next to the bed and reached out to gently caress the bard's cheek. “You are safe now, he won't hurt you anymore.” And he was going to stand up and turn to the bastard when Jaskier reached out a shaking hand to his wrist. “Are you going to kill him?” he asked, beautiful deep blue eyes now reddened by the tears. “You want me to?”

Jaskier knew that, whatever he answered, Geralt would accomplish it with no hesitation. “No” he said “Just...I don't want him to hurt anyone else.” Geralt hummed in agreement to his words.

The bard let out a shaky breath and shivered. He was cold, but didn't want to wrap himself in those covers. Geralt picked Jaskier’s shirt of the floor and handed it to his friend, who put it on and hugged himself as Geralt turned to the man who had remained silent, perhaps thinking on a way to escape. The rat had put his dick back into his pants, but that wouldn't protect him from Geralt's intentions. He panicked when he saw the Witcher approach him, eyes glowing with animalistic anger. A wave of rage took over him for a second, he wanted to beat the man to death, make him scream and cry. But Jaskier had asked him not to kill him, and he wouldn't.

“I-I can pay you for him...how much do you want?” he managed to spit out before Geralt grabbed him by the neck and lifted him, pressed against the wall and punched him in the gut and then in the face. He tried to fight back but it was useless. He let off of the mans neck, kicked him when he dropped to the floor, making him scream out in pain. Again, Geralt pulled him up, grabbing him by the hair and looking dead into his eyes, pulled out his dagger and slowly buried it in the man's the crotch, through his pants, smiling darkly as he trashed and howled, cursing him and Jaskier. “You monster!” he let out as Geralt pulled out his dagger and repeated the motion. The witcher, looked back a second to Jaskier, who had sat down on the bed, curled on himself, and was looking at him, his face graver than he had ever seen him, trying to control his breath.‘Am I really the monster here?’ A wave of rage took over him for a second, he wanted to beat the man to death, make him scream and cry.

Geralt turned again to the man and tightening his grip both on the dagger and his hair, he muttered “And just as the monster you say I am, if I see you again, I will drag you to the market of the village, strip you down for everyone to see, and then shove both of my swords up your ass.” The man had gone quiet again, struggling to breathe. Geralt let go off him and punched him in the face again. “Now leave or I kill you right now!”

The bastard headed to the door, limping and hissing at the sharp pain, hands trying to stop the bleeding between his legs. He stopped for a second to glance at Jaskier and was about to call him something when Geralt stamped his foot on the wooden floor and that motherfucker fled the place.

The witcher turned to Jaskier again who was staring at him, his eyes were sort of... apologetical? But then the bard was scrambling down from the bed,shirt barely covering him and as soon as he made an attempt to stand on his feet, his knees buckled under him and a sharp shiver of pain ran through his back and sat back on the bed.

He drew a little embarrassed smile in his face. “Could you help me out?” he said. Geralt hauled Jaskier's arm on his shoulders and took a firm hold of his waist to hold him steady on his feet.

“What the hell has happened here?” someone yelled from the door. A short and fat man stood on the doorframe, a frown making his bushy eyebrows almost come together: the innkeeper. Behind him, a woman with a long brunette hair flecked with grey locks stuck her head out, face twisting in more concern than anger. “And why has a man with blood dripping from his balls crossed my tavern, crying like a child?”

Geralt felt the bard go tense against him and with the hand holding on Jaskier's waist rubbed soothingly on his skin under the fabric. He didn't want anyone else to see him like this.

“That man was ‘hurting’ my friend when I came in. I gave that bastard what he deserved. I'll pay for any inconvenience caused, and the broken door, but please could you get ready a hot bath for him?”

The innkeeper understood and ran to do as commanded but his wife approached them with a kind and compressive smile. “Poor darling...” and stroked lightly Jaskier's cheek, who smiled weakly, tears falling again from his eyes. “It's okay, you are safe now. If you need anything: clean clothes, something to treat those bruises... tell me.” Her kind words even pulled a smile out of Geralt before she left to help the innkeeper.

In silence, he helped the bard out of the room and guided him to their own. When they entered, Geralt helped the bard to sit on the bed and went back to pick Jaskier's discarded clothes from the floor and bring them to him. Had he yet not crossed the doorframe that he heard his friend sobbing.

“I'm sorry! I swear I'm sorry!” he whispered between sharp breaths, burying his head in his hands, when his eyes met Geralt's look of concern. “I'm sorry you had to see me like that! That you had to do that!”

“Jaskier, it _wasn't_ your fault...”

“It _was_! It was my fault! He had been acting like a prick from the second we started talking, but I acceded to sleep with him anyway. I should have known better. I should...” Jaskier replied, his hands reaching to his hair and pulling in despair, unconsciously trying to hurt himself.

“Jaskier! Look at me.” Geralt sat next to him and took his wrists and held them as gently as he was able to, caring of the bruises from the rope. “He tied your hands even when you asked him not to. He had you crying and begging him to stop and _didn't_ stop.” the bard tried to hold his gaze but lowered his head, Geralt saw tears dripping to the bed even if he couldn't see Jaskier's eyes. “He had no right to do that to you.”

The witcher's heart sank in his chest. Geralt wanted to hug the bard, hold him tight against his chest and tell him that everything was okay. That he didn't have to apologise. Kiss his tears and stroke his hair until his eyes glowed again with their usual joy and brightness. He found himself feeling like the his only purpose in life was to make the Jaskier smile again and instantly knew that all his attempts of not feeling things for the bard had been useless. He loved Jaskier and it was hurting him.

Geralt reached shyly to put a hand on his shoulder, really aching to hold him close “Can I?...” and the bard threw himself to his arms, seeking comfort in the witcher like Geralt never thought someone would. The bard's arms circled his waist and buried his face in his chest, tears dampening his dark shirt.Jaskier was a tall man, strong and cheerful, but he seemed so small and fragile, so vulnerable, even scent of fear and pain had yet not left, it was stuck on his skin. He was like a child abandoned in the woods. He placed a gentle hand on the back of Jaskier's head and lowered his own to kiss the bard's hair.

“Geralt,” Jaskied whispered into his chest “thank you so much... for saving me.”

“That's what I do, Jaskier. I kill monsters who hurt people.”

“But you didn't kill him.” Jaskier lifted his face to look up into the witcher's eyes.

“I would have if you hadn't told me not to.”

“I know...” and then Jaskier pressed his face to Geralt's chest again, listening to the steady beat of his heart as his own breath calmed and his eyes weren't flooded by tears anymore. Gentle hands caressing his brown locks and on his sides, avoiding the bruises on his back.

Soon after that, the innkeeper's wife came back, knocking on the door.“The bath's ready.” Jaskier took a moment to part away from Geralt's embrace but he managed to stand on his feet.

“Want some help?” Geralt asked, trying not to look at the belt bruises on the back of Jaskier's thighs, his shirt covering him by the half of these. “No, it's okay, I'll manage.”And he walked away barefoot, smiling embarrassedly as he walked past the innkeeper's wife. “It's okay sweetheart, you'll see how you feel much better after a bath and a bit of sleep.” Jaskier's heart warmed at the non judgemental and kind way in which the woman talked to him and Geralt sincerely thanked it.

When Jaskier was gone, she approached the witcher “I've convinced my husband not to charge you for the room and the broken door. After all, your friend's singing has doubled our earnings for the night. You can stay tomorrow if you want to, too.”

Geralt hummed. “Thank you ma'am, you are so kind”

———————————

The witcher waited alone in the room walking around restless, mind filled with thoughts. Could he had intervened before? Perhaps if he hadn't taken for granted that Jaskier would get away, if he had ran to help him at the first signal...but it was useless, it was done, and Jaskier would be safe now, with him. At least for the night. And that bastard wouldn't want to stick his dick into anything for a while, if he managed to preserve it (which was fairly unlikely, because he probably would have to cut it off to prevent further infections).

Geralt was sure that Jaskier would be more careful choosing his lovers from now on but he should be more alert next time. The only thing he knew is that he didn't want to see Jaskier hurt ever again. His heart fell apart in pieces at the only recall of Jaskier tied by his wrists, sobbing in pain as he was forcefully taken by that man, of the smell of fear and shame in that room.

Gods, Geralt knew that he would bring nothing but problems to Jaskier, but his instinct, his heart, screamed that needed to stay close to the bard and protect him.

Jaskier returned to the room a while later, with fresh clean clothes and damp hair. He didn't smell to sweat, fear and the other man anymore, but to flowery bath salts and tiredness. His eyes weren't red but his eyelids were still sore from crying.

“How are you?” Geralt asked. “Better, I just want to sleep a bit.” he said, rubbing his eyes and heading to his side of the bed. The witcher looked at the bed for a second as Jaskier undressed to his underwear (shirt and underpants) , it was big enough for the two of them, but definitely not big enough for them to sleep without touching each other.

“I can stay in the floor if it makes you uncomfortable to...” he commented gesturing at the bed. “No, it's okay.” he said softly and slipped under the covers, his back facing Geralt's side of the bed.

Without a word, Geralt blew the candles on the nightstand, the moon being the only source of light now, and did the same and they laid there, back against back. At the sight of how tired his friend seemed, he thought that the bard would fall asleep almost immediately. However, he could listen Jaskier's heartbeat begin to fasten and his breath to hitch, and an intense scent of distress and shame filled his nostrils. And his heart just couldn't take it. Geralt turned around and whispered “Jaskier, come here.” reaching to touch the his shoulder, he felt the bard shift on the bed and then press himself between his open arms, face hidden in the witcher's neck and one of his arms around his strong waist. His breath began to steady as soon as he leaned into Geralt's warm embrace, seeking for comfort.

Geralt circled the bard's chest with his arms and played lazily with the damp locks of the nape of his head as Jaskier nuzzled his jaw softly, warm breath and slight stubble tickling Geralt's neck. The witcher's other hand reached down his back light fingers on the clothed skin. He could smell that the bard had applied some sort of salve on the bruises on his back and thighs.

“Do they hurt?” he asked.The bard understood and whispered against his skin. “A bit, but they'll be better tomorrow...” Geralt hummed softly and his fingers traced down to the bard's hips, at the end of his back. “And your...?” Jaskier blushed and nodded into his neck. “It's alright, but you'll have me limping around a day or two more.” And then he laughed softly, a bit embarrassed.Geralt hummed again and continued stroking Jaskier's hair as the bard leaned into the touch.

“The innkeeper's wife told me that we can stay tomorrow if we want, and that they are not gonna charge us for any of it.” He felt the bard's lips curl into a smile.

“She told me that your singing this afternoon has boosted their earnings.” Geralt commented. “That's good. So..we staying tomorrow?” Jaskier said sleepily, rubbing his cheek against Geralt's jaw like an affectionate house-cat, to what the witcher hummed affirmatively.

Gradually, Geralt felt the man between his arms relax even further against him, his breath becoming slow and his heartbeat steady. Jaskier had fallen asleep and Geralt felt his heart flutter in his chest like it hadn't done in centuries.


End file.
